CHAPTER XLVI.
THE QUARREL.
On that Wednesday evening Phineas Finn was at The Universe. He dinedat the house of Madame Goesler, and went from thence to the club inbetter spirits than he had known for some weeks past. The Duke andDuchess had been at Madame Goesler's, and Lord and Lady Chiltern,who were now up in town, with Barrington Erle, and,--as it hadhappened,--old Mr. Maule. The dinner had been very pleasant, and twoor three words had been spoken which had tended to raise the heart ofour hero. In the first place Barrington Erle had expressed a regretthat Phineas was not at his old post at the Colonies, and the youngDuke had re-echoed it. Phineas thought that the manner of his oldfriend Erle was more cordial to him than it had been lately, andeven that comforted him. Then it was a delight to him to meet theChilterns, who were always gracious to him. But perhaps his greatestpleasure came from the reception which was accorded by his hostess toMr. Maule, which was of a nature not easy to describe. It had becomeevident to Phineas that Mr. Maule was constant in his attentions toMadame Goesler; and, though he had no purpose of his own in referenceto the lady,--though he was aware that former circumstances,circumstances of that previous life to which he was accustomed tolook back as to another existence, made it impossible that he shouldhave any such purpose,--still he viewed Mr. Maule with dislike. Hehad once ventured to ask her whether she really liked "that oldpadded dandy." She had answered that she did like the old dandy. Olddandies, she thought, were preferable to old men who did not care howthey looked;--and as for the padding, that was his affair, not hers.She did not know why a man should not have a pad in his coat, as wellas a woman one at the back of her head. But Phineas had known thatthis was her gentle raillery, and now he was delighted to find thatshe continued it, after a still more gentle fashion, before the man'sface. Mr. Maule's manner was certainly peculiar. He was more thanordinarily polite,--and was afterwards declared by the Duchess tohave made love like an old gander. But Madame Goesler, who knewexactly how to receive such attentions, turned a glance now and thenupon Phineas Finn, which he could now read with absolute precision."You see how I can dispose of a padded old dandy directly he goes aninch too far." No words could have said that to him more plainly thandid these one or two glances;--and, as he had learned to dislike Mr.Maule, he was gratified.
Of course they all talked about Lady Eustace and Mr. Emilius. "Doyou remember how intensely interested the dear old Duke used to bewhen we none of us knew what had become of the diamonds?" said theDuchess.
"And how you took her part," said Madame Goesler.
"So did you,--just as much as I; and why not? She was a mostinteresting young woman, and I sincerely hope we have not got to theend of her yet. The worst of it is that she has got into such--verybad hands. The Bonteens have taken her up altogether. Do you knowher, Mr. Finn?"
"No, Duchess;--and am hardly likely to make her acquaintance whileshe remains where she is now." The Duchess laughed and nodded herhead. All the world knew by this time that she had declared herselfto be the sworn enemy of the Bonteens.
And there had been some conversation on that terribly difficultquestion respecting the foxes in Trumpeton Wood. "The fact is, LordChiltern," said the Duke, "I'm as ignorant as a child. I would doright if I knew how. What ought I to do? Shall I import some foxes?"
"I don't suppose, Duke, that in all England there is a spot in whichfoxes are more prone to breed."
"Indeed. I'm very glad of that. But something goes wrong afterwards,I fear."
"The nurseries are not well managed, perhaps," said the Duchess.
"Gipsy kidnappers are allowed about the place," said Madame Goesler.
"Gipsies!" exclaimed the Duke.
"Poachers!" said Lord Chiltern. "But it isn't that we mind. We coulddeal with that ourselves if the woods were properly managed. A headof game and foxes can be reared together very well, if--"
"I don't care a straw for a head of game, Lord Chiltern. As far asmy own tastes go, I would wish that there was neither a pheasantnor a partridge nor a hare on any property that I own. I think thatsheep and barn-door fowls do better for everybody in the long run,and that men who cannot live without shooting should go beyondthickly-populated regions to find it. And, indeed, for myself, I mustsay the same about foxes. They do not interest me, and I fancy thatthey will gradually be exterminated."
"God forbid!" exclaimed Lord Chiltern.
"But I do not find myself called upon to exterminate them myself,"continued the Duke. "The number of men who amuse themselves by ridingafter one fox is too great for me to wish to interfere with them. AndI know that my neighbours in the country conceive it to be my duty tohave foxes for them. I will oblige them, Lord Chiltern, as far as Ican without detriment to other duties."
"You leave it to me," said the Duchess to her neighbour, LordChiltern. "I'll speak to Mr. Fothergill myself, and have it putright." It unfortunately happened, however, that Lord Chiltern gota letter the very next morning from old Doggett telling him that alitter of young cubs had been destroyed that week in Trumpeton Wood.
Barrington Erle and Phineas went off to The Universe together, andas they went the old terms of intimacy seemed to be re-establishedbetween them. "Nobody can be so sorry as I am," said Barrington, "atthe manner in which things have gone. When I wrote to you, of course,I thought it certain that, if we came in, you would come with us."
"Do not let that fret you."
"But it does fret me,--very much. There are so many slips that ofcourse no one can answer for anything."
"Of course not. I know who has been my friend."
"The joke of it is, that he himself is at present so utterlyfriendless. The Duke will hardly speak to him. I know that as a fact.And Gresham has begun to find something is wrong. We all hoped thathe would refuse to come in without a seat in the Cabinet;--but thatwas too good to be true. They say he talks of resigning. I shallbelieve it when I see it. He'd better not play any tricks, for if hedid resign, it would be accepted at once." Phineas, when he heardthis, could not help thinking how glorious it would be if Mr. Bonteenwere to resign, and if the place so vacated, or some vacancy sooccasioned, were to be filled by him!
They reached the club together, and as they went up the stairs, theyheard the hum of many voices in the room. "All the world and his wifeare here to-night," said Phineas. They overtook a couple of men atthe door, so that there was something of the bustle of a crowd asthey entered. There was a difficulty in finding places in which toput their coats and hats,--for the accommodation of The Universe isnot great. There was a knot of men talking not far from them, andamong the voices Phineas could clearly hear that of Mr. Bonteen.Ratler's he had heard before, and also Fitzgibbon's, though hehad not distinguished any words from them. But those spoken by Mr.Bonteen he did distinguish very plainly. "Mr. Phineas Finn, or somesuch fellow as that, would be after her at once," said Mr. Bonteen.Then Phineas walked immediately among the knot of men and showedhimself. As soon as he heard his name mentioned, he doubted for amoment what he would do. Mr. Bonteen when speaking had not known ofhis presence, and it might be his duty not to seem to have listened.But the speech had been made aloud, in the open room,--so that thosewho chose might listen;--and Phineas could not but have heard it. Inthat moment he resolved that he was bound to take notice of what hehad heard. "What is it, Mr. Bonteen, that Phineas Finn will do?" heasked.
Mr. Bonteen had been--dining. He was not a man by any meanshabitually intemperate, and now any one saying that he was tipsywould have maligned him. But he was flushed with much wine, andhe was a man whose arrogance in that condition was apt to becomeextreme. _"In vino veritas!"_ The sober devil can hide his clovenhoof; but when the devil drinks he loses his cunning and growshonest. Mr. Bonteen looked Phineas full in the face a second or twobefore he answered, and then said,--quite aloud--"You have crept uponus unawares, sir."
"What do you mean by that, sir?" said Phineas. "I have come in as anyother man comes."
"Listeners at any rate never hear any good of themselves."
br />
Then there were present among those assembled clear indications ofdisapproval of Bonteen's conduct. In these days,--when no palpableand immediate punishment is at hand for personal insolence from manto man,--personal insolence to one man in a company seems almostto constitute an insult to every one present. When men could fightreadily, an arrogant word or two between two known to be hostile toeach other was only an invitation to a duel, and the angry man wasdoing that for which it was known that he could be made to pay. Therewas, or it was often thought that there was, a real spirit in theangry man's conduct, and they who were his friends before becameperhaps more his friends when he had thus shown that he had an enemy.But a different feeling prevails at present;--a feeling so different,that we may almost say that a man in general society cannot speakeven roughly to any but his intimate comrades without giving offenceto all around him. Men have learned to hate the nuisance of a row,and to feel that their comfort is endangered if a man prone to rowsgets among them. Of all candidates at a club a known quarreller ismore sure of blackballs now than even in the times when such a oneprovoked duels. Of all bores he is the worst; and there is alwaysan unexpressed feeling that such a one exacts more from his companythan his share of attention. This is so strong, that too often theman quarrelled with, though he be as innocent as was Phineas on thepresent occasion, is made subject to the general aversion which isfelt for men who misbehave themselves.
"I wish to hear no good of myself from you," said Phineas, followinghim to his seat. "Who is it that you said,--I should be after?" Theroom was full, and every one there, even they who had come in withPhineas, knew that Lady Eustace was the woman. Everybody at presentwas talking about Lady Eustace.
"Never mind," said Barrington Erle, taking him by the arm. "What'sthe use of a row?"
"No use at all;--but if you heard your name mentioned in such amanner you would find it impossible to pass it over. There is Mr.Monk;--ask him."
Mr. Monk was sitting very quietly in a corner of the room withanother gentleman of his own age by him,--one devoted to literarypursuits and a constant attendant at The Universe. As he saidafterwards, he had never known any unpleasantness of that sort inthe club before. There were many men of note in the room. There wasa foreign minister, a member of the Cabinet, two ex-members of theCabinet, a great poet, an exceedingly able editor, two earls, twomembers of the Royal Academy, the president of a learned society, acelebrated professor,--and it was expected that Royalty might comein at any minute, speak a few benign words, and blow a few clouds ofsmoke. It was abominable that the harmony of such a meeting should beinterrupted by the vinous insolence of Mr. Bonteen, and the uselesswrath of Phineas Finn. "Really, Mr. Finn, if I were you I would letit drop," said the gentleman devoted to literary pursuits.
Phineas did not much affect the literary gentleman, but in such amatter would prefer the advice of Mr. Monk to that of any man living.He again appealed to his friend. "You heard what was said?"
"I heard Mr. Bonteen remark that you or somebody like you would incertain circumstances be after a certain lady. I thought it to bean ill-judged speech, and as your particular friend I heard it withgreat regret."
"What a row about nothing!" said Mr. Bonteen, rising from his seat."We were speaking of a very pretty woman, and I was saying that someyoung fellow generally supposed to be fond of pretty women would soonbe after her. If that offends your morals you must have become verystrict of late."
There was something in the explanation which, though very bad andvulgar, it was almost impossible not to accept. Such at least was thefeeling of those who stood around Phineas Finn. He himself knew thatMr. Bonteen had intended to assert that he would be after the woman'smoney and not her beauty; but he had taste enough to perceive that hecould not descend to any such detail as that. "There are reasons, Mr.Bonteen," he said, "why I think you should abstain from mentioningmy name in public. Your playful references should be made to yourfriends, and not to those who, to say the least of it, are not yourfriends."
When the matter was discussed afterwards it was thought that PhineasFinn should have abstained from making the last speech. It wascertainly evidence of great anger on his part. And he was very angry.He knew that he had been insulted,--and insulted by the man whom ofall men he would feel most disposed to punish for any offence. Hecould not allow Mr. Bonteen to have the last word, especially as acertain amount of success had seemed to attend them. Fate at themoment was so far propitious to Phineas that outward circumstancessaved him from any immediate reply, and thus left him in some degreetriumphant. Expected Royalty arrived, and cast its salutary oilupon the troubled waters. The Prince, with some well-known popularattendant, entered the room, and for a moment every gentleman rosefrom his chair. It was but for a moment, and then the Prince becameas any other gentleman, talking to his friends. One or two therepresent, who had perhaps peculiarly royal instincts, had crept uptowards him so as to make him the centre of a little knot, but,otherwise, conversation went on much as it had done before theunfortunate arrival of Phineas. That quarrel, however, had been verydistinctly trodden under foot by the Prince, for Mr. Bonteen hadfound himself quite incapacitated from throwing back any missile inreply to the last that had been hurled at him.
Phineas took a vacant seat next to Mr. Monk,--who was deficientperhaps in royal instincts,--and asked him in a whisper his opinionof what had taken place. "Do not think any more of it," said Mr.Monk.
"That is so much more easily said than done. How am I not to think ofit?"
"Of course I mean that you are to act as though you had forgottenit."
"Did you ever know a more gratuitous insult? Of course he was talkingof that Lady Eustace."
"I had not been listening to him before, but no doubt he was. Ineed not tell you now what I think of Mr. Bonteen. He is not moregracious in my eyes than he is in yours. To-night I fancy he hasbeen drinking, which has not improved him. You may be sure of this,Phineas,--that the less of resentful anger you show in such awretched affair as took place just now, the more will be the blameattached to him and the less to you."
"Why should any blame be attached to me?"
"I don't say that any will unless you allow yourself to become loudand resentful. The thing is not worth your anger."
"I am angry."
"Then go to bed at once, and sleep it off. Come with me, and we'llwalk home together."
"It isn't the proper thing, I fancy, to leave the room while thePrince is here."
"Then I must do the improper thing," said Mr. Monk. "I haven't a key,and I musn't keep my servant up any longer. A quiet man like me cancreep out without notice. Good night, Phineas, and take my adviceabout this. If you can't forget it, act and speak and look as thoughyou had forgotten it." Then Mr. Monk, without much creeping, left theroom.
The club was very full, and there was a clatter of voices, and theclatter round the Prince was the noisiest and merriest. Mr. Bonteenwas there, of course, and Phineas as he sat alone could hear him ashe edged his words in upon the royal ears. Every now and again therewas a royal joke, and then Mr. Bonteen's laughter was conspicuous. Asfar as Phineas could distinguish the sounds no special amount of theroyal attention was devoted to Mr. Bonteen. That very able editor,and one of the Academicians, and the poet, seemed to be the mosthonoured, and when the Prince went,--which he did when his cigar wasfinished,--Phineas observed with inward satisfaction that the royalhand, which was given to the poet, to the editor, and to the painter,was not extended to the President of the Board of Trade. And then,having taken delight in this, he accused himself of meanness inhaving even observed a matter so trivial. Soon after this a ruck ofmen left the club, and then Phineas rose to go. As he went down thestairs Barrington Erle followed him with Laurence Fitzgibbon, and thethree stood for a moment at the door in the street talking to eachother. Finn's way lay eastward from the club, whereas both Erle andFitzgibbon would go westwards towards their homes. "How well thePrince behaves at these sort of places!" said Erle.
"Princes ought to
behave well," said Phineas.
"Somebody else didn't behave very well,--eh, Finn, my boy?" saidLaurence.
"Somebody else, as you call him," replied Phineas, "is very unlike aPrince, and never does behave well. To-night, however, he surpassedhimself."
"Don't bother your mind about it, old fellow," said Barrington.
"I tell you what it is, Erle," said Phineas. "I don't think that I'ma vindictive man by nature, but with that man I mean to make it evensome of these days. You know as well as I do what it is he has doneto me, and you know also whether I have deserved it. Wretched reptilethat he is! He has pretty nearly been able to ruin me,--and all fromsome petty feeling of jealousy."
"Finn, me boy, don't talk like that," said Laurence.
"You shouldn't show your hand," said Barrington.
"I know what you mean, and it's all very well. After your differentfashions you two have been true to me, and I don't care how much yousee of my hand. That man's insolence angers me to such an extent thatI cannot refrain from speaking out. He hasn't spirit enough to go outwith me, or I would shoot him."
"Blankenberg, eh!" said Laurence, alluding to the now notorious duelwhich had once been fought in that place between Phineas and LordChiltern.
"I would," continued the angry man. "There are times in which one isdriven to regret that there has come an end to duelling, and there isleft to one no immediate means of resenting an injury."
As they were speaking Mr. Bonteen came out from the front dooralone, and seeing the three men standing, passed on towards the left,eastwards. "Good night, Erle," he said. "Good night, Fitzgibbon."The two men answered him, and Phineas stood back in the gloom. Itwas about one o'clock and the night was very dark. "By George, Ido dislike that man," said Phineas. Then, with a laugh, he took alife-preserver out of his pocket, and made an action with it asthough he were striking some enemy over the head. In those days therehad been much garotting in the streets, and writers in the Press hadadvised those who walked about at night to go armed with sticks.Phineas Finn had himself been once engaged with garotters,--as hasbeen told in a former chronicle,--and had since armed himself,thinking more probably of the thing which he had happened to seethan men do who had only heard of it. As soon as he had spoken, hefollowed Mr. Bonteen down the street, at the distance of perhaps acouple of hundred yards.
"They won't have a row,--will they?" said Erle.
"Oh, dear, no; Finn won't think of speaking to him; and you may besure that Bonteen won't say a word to Finn. Between you and me,Barrington, I wish Master Phineas would give him a thorough goodhiding."